


In which there is a moving castle

by fireblazie



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, M/M, Viktor is so extra, Viktor's hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9623369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireblazie/pseuds/fireblazie
Summary: When Viktor opens his eyes, Yuri is staring at him with a horrified expression.Granted, Yuri greets him with that face every time Viktor opens his mouth, so Viktor doesn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation at first. But then it comes to him in stages: a gradual ache settling in his lower back, a peculiar stiffness in his joints, and, most horribly of all—He runs towards the nearest mirror and freezes at the reflection that gapes back at him.Hishair.Viktor screams.(A sort of Howl's Moving Castle AU.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [counterheist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/counterheist/gifts).



> everybody wanted hmc au and look, i tried so hard to do the classic, traditional hmc au but it just wasn't working, you hear
> 
> so now you get this hot mess (unbeta'd, btw)
> 
> also a birthday fic for superman! HBD DUDE :D (it's not midnight yet!!!)

When Viktor opens his eyes, Yuri is staring at him with a horrified expression.

Granted, Yuri greets him with that face every time Viktor opens his mouth, so Viktor doesn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation at first. But then it comes to him in stages: a gradual ache settling in his lower back, a peculiar stiffness in his joints, and, most horribly of all—

He runs towards the nearest mirror and freezes at the reflection that gapes back at him.

His _hair_.

Viktor screams.

  

*

 

“I am _old,_ ” Viktor wails, rocking back and forth in the fetal position. “I am _old_ and my hair is _gray_ —”

“Your hair was always gray, old man,” Yuri hisses from where he’s poring over Viktor’s ancient spell books, attempting to find a counter spell. He pauses, sniggering. “There’s just— _less_ of it, now.”

Viktor howls.

Yuri continues to flip through the peeling pages of the spell books tossed carelessly on Viktor’s table. “This wouldn’t have happened if you actually kept your books organized like normal wizards do,” he accuses him.

Viktor puffs up indignantly. “I specifically said you were to practice the spells in the _crimson_ book with the _gold_ trim—” 

Yuri holds up the spell book responsible for their current predicament, looking bored. “This _is_ crimson with gold trim—”

“That is _scarlet_!” Viktor hisses, appalled at his apprentice, but Yuri ignores him in favor of a particular book that’s suddenly grabbed his attention.

“Oh,” Yuri says, suddenly quiet as he glances up from the yellowing pages.

Viktor falls warily silent, racking his brain for any potential counter spells to a curse that dooms its victim to age terribly and horribly ungracefully, and stops short.

“Wait,” he says. “Is this the spell that can only be broken by true love’s kiss?” 

Yuri squints at him, and then tosses the book aside. “Ye— _es,_ ” he says decisively. “That is definitely the counter spell to many curses.”

Viktor’s face falls. “But,” he says, lower lip trembling dangerously, “how would my Yuuri ever want to kiss me when I look—like _this?_ ”

Yuri mutters something exceedingly inappropriate under his breath.

  

*

 ****

Viktor first stumbles across _Yuu-topia_ on a late Sunday afternoon. It’s tucked away in a sleepy town by the ocean, boasting the best magical hot springs this side of the world. Viktor’s heard that the water holds magical properties that can soothe any ache and cure any sickness, and, if certain rumors are to be believed, the springs are the number one stop for spirits to cleanse themselves before making the long and arduous journey to the Underworld.

Although, ‘stumble’ might be too gentle of a word. An appropriate alternative might be ‘crashes violently just outside of Yuu-topia because his castle is an old piece of shit,’ Yuri’s words, not his. Yuri peers outside curiously. “Where the hell are we?”

“Magical hot springs, I think,” Viktor replies, snapping his fingers and rendering the castle invisible and impermeable to outside eyes. “Shall we explore?”

  

*

 ****  

The hot springs truly are magnificent. Viktor’s been running a little low on magic lately, what with keeping his old castle moving and putting out any fires that Yuri accidentally starts while honing his craft. But as soon as he sinks into the hot water, all of that seems to fade away. The magic of the water seems to seep into his very bones, slowly washing away the ache of old magical residue. He lets out a soft sigh as he tilts his head back.

Only to meet a pair of startled, yet extremely exquisite eyes.

The owner of said eyes jerks back as Viktor whirls around, a smile beginning to form on his lips. “Hello,” he says lowly, and ignores the sound of Yuri retching in the background. “I don’t believe we have met.”

“I—I’m sorry,” the other man says, a dark blue robe tied loosely around his waist. “I just—it was taking a lot to, um, replenish your magic, and I wasn’t sure if it was working on you, so I just wanted to check, I’m so sorry, I’ll leave right away, I—oh!”

Viktor stands up in the water, naked as the day he was born. Behind him, Yuri’s retching intensifies. In front of him, the man turns a vivid shade of red.

“Do you mean to say that you run the hot springs yourself?” Viktor is dangerously impressed. “That takes an awful lot of magic. Because—yes. It _is_ only you, isn’t it? Neither your parents nor your sister possesses magic; I couldn’t sense any on them.”

“Ah—yes.” He keeps his lovely brown eyes fixed on Viktor’s face. “It’s just me.”

Viktor reaches forward to take his hands in his. They’re a little smaller than Viktor’s, but bear familiar callouses from hard work and harder magic. His palms are a little clammy, but somehow that only adds to his charm.

“You must tell me your name,” Viktor breathes. 

“I—Yuuri?” He blinks, clears his throat. “My name is Yuuri.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, caressing the syllables lovingly. “Yuuri, my name is Viktor, and I think you are _magnificent_.”

****

* 

 

When Viktor arrives at Yuu-topia after Yuri’s wayward spell, Yuuri, his beloved, his rock, his anchor— 

Laughs.

It is a beautiful laugh, Viktor thinks, staring at him admiringly. Like the sound of bells in the distance. His laugh could cause wars, innocents from all over the world falling prey to its spell. Yuuri, for all his modesty (“I only really know water spells,” he’d muttered to Viktor in one of their earlier conversations, dark lashes shielding his eyes from view), had enchanted Viktor at first sight, and Viktor still hasn’t managed to break free of that spell. Not that he would want to. Yuuri is—Yuuri is— 

Viktor blinks at the weight of single finger poking directly at the part of his hair. Yuuri is standing on his tip-toes, arm outstretched to reach the top of Viktor’s hair. Instinctively, Viktor lowers his head, making direct eye contact. Yuuri flushes, but the remnants of his smile linger. 

“ _Yuu_ -ri,” Viktor whines, emphasizing the first syllable of his name. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Only a little,” Yuuri promises, drawing his hand back. Viktor catches his palm quickly, and Yuuri lets him. “Honestly, it’s not even that bad. When Yurio called, I thought you’d turned into a ninety-year-old man or something.”

“I might as well have,” Viktor sniffs.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, helplessly amused. His eyes light up when he gets like that; his mouth curves up gently and he twines his fingers with Viktor’s, warm and firm. “You’re, like, thirty-five, tops.”

“Thirty-five with a _receding hairline,_ ” Viktor sobs. “Yura said that my forehead could be used as a landmark for ships lost at sea—”

Yuuri cuts him off, placing his unoccupied hand behind Viktor’s neck and pulling him down so he can press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I think your forehead is lovely,” he says when he pulls away.

Viktor sinks against him, face awkwardly squashed against his shoulder. “Yuuri,” he mutters into his threadbare sweater. “Yuuri, you are going to kill me.”

“Sorry,” says Yuuri cheerfully, playing with the strands of hair that curl at the nape of Viktor’s neck.

“No, you’re not,” Viktor says petulantly, and then abruptly stands up, tall. He stares at Yuuri, wide-eyed. “Wait. _Wait._ You—kissed me! True love’s kiss!” 

Yuuri blinks at him, nonplussed. “Yes?”

“Well?” Viktor demands. “Am I back to normal?”

Yuuri frowns. “No,” he admits. “You’re still—” He gestures awkwardly. “The same.”

Viktor takes a step back, clutching a hand to his heart. “ _Yuuri,_ ” he breathes in horror.

“What—” But Yuuri is distracted by his mother yelling for him downstairs.

“ _Yuuri,_ ” she calls, “can you fix the revitalization springs in Level 3, please?”

Yuuri summons cool blue fire in the palm of his hand at her words. “I have to—” he starts, but Viktor is frozen in place, staring at Yuuri as though he’s taken a razor and shaved Viktor bald himself. “Viktor, I have to go,” he says, helplessly. “We’ll talk later, okay?” 

Viktor watches him leave with a heavy heart.

  

*

 **** ****

“I have a moving castle,” Viktor tells Yuuri on their third date. 

‘Date’ being a relative term. Viktor likes to loiter around the hot springs, catching up with Big Sister Mari and Yuuri’s wonderful and caring Mama and Papa. He’s discovered a wonderful delicacy known as the Pork Cutlet Bowl, and he and Yuri have become avid fans.

Viktor uses this as an excuse to hang around. “My poor Yura is a growing boy!” he’d declared cheerfully, draping an arm around his apprentice’s shoulders. “He wants Pork Cutlet Bowl for dinner tonight!”

“And every night,” Yuri had said next to him, dead serious.

Hiroko had laughed, kindly. “Then we will have a standing order ready for you every night!”

Viktor has very little shame, so he takes her up on her offer. Whether by sheer coincidence or divine intervention, Yuuri is always the one at the counter with two take-away boxes sitting in front of him. Viktor hands him a reusable purple tote, and watches as Yuuri packs them neatly, hands moving gracefully as he does so.

“I’ve seen it around,” Yuuri says in response, gesturing vaguely outside. “It looks pretty beat up. Yurio says it crashes at least once a week. Have you considered getting a new one?”

Viktor presses a hand to his heart in dismay. “Yuuri can be very cruel,” he says after catching his breath. “I would sooner sever my left arm from my body before I give up on my castle.”

Yuuri smiles. “I’m kidding. It’s impressive. Classic.” He pauses. “It must take a lot to keep it together and moving.”

“It does,” Viktor agrees. “But I’m very good at magic. I even have an apprentice, and only the best wizards get those.”

“Mm,” Yuuri says. “Tell me more about your castle.”

“Well—” Viktor licks his lips. “I could— _show_ you, if you wanted.” 

Yuuri bursts out laughing.

“Yuuri,” Viktor whines, hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri manages between snickers, “but you just invited me over to your castle while your _apprentice_ is waiting for you to bring home dinner.”

“Yura is very self-sufficient,” Viktor says primly. “Also, who said anything untoward would be happening? We could all simply have a nice meal together, couldn’t we? Were you thinking dirty thoughts? Is my Yuuri a _closet pervert_ —” 

Yuuri claps a hand to his mouth as one of their elderly patrons sedately crosses the room, dressed in an ill-fitting pink robe. Viktor licks his palm. Yuuri rears back.

“You are terrible,” he whispers.

“And you are lovely,” Viktor counters, helplessly charmed. He still hasn’t let go of Yuuri’s hand. 

Yuuri turns a very becoming shade of red, but doesn’t pull away. Viktor smiles, and hopes he’ll get the privilege of seeing Yuuri blush every day for the rest of his life. “Tomorrow evening, perhaps? I’ll make sure that the castle is apprentice-free.”

“That sounds delightful,” Yuuri says, cheeks still pink.

 

*

 ****  

Yuuri finds him at the back of Yuu-topia, picking idly at wildflowers (“He loves me, he loves me not,” Viktor had muttered mulishly while shredding several flowers to pieces and scattering them in the tall grass with a perfect sunset serving as his backdrop). Viktor’s heart skips a beat at the sight of him, still in that same old navy blue sweater, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, left hand wrapped loosely in a bandage.

Viktor narrows his eyes at the last one, gazing questioningly as Yuuri sits next to him. Yuuri shrugs. “Bit of an accident in the boiler room,” he says lightly. Viktor clucks his tongue as he undoes the bandage. Yuuri’s hand is a solid weight in his, normally pale skin marred with angry burns. He concentrates, and with a furrowed brow, vanishes the imperfections away. 

“You run a magical onsen for spirits and you can’t heal your own wound?” Viktor quips, tracing his palm reverently.

“Didn’t have time,” Yuuri says carelessly.

Viktor tangles their fingers together. “Yuuri,” he says, “what do you think about how I look now?” 

Without missing a beat, Yuuri replies: “I think you’re beautiful.”

Viktor, despite himself, flushes. It’s not the first time he’s been called as such. It likely won’t be the last. Viktor doesn’t like to lie, not to others, and especially not to himself. He knows he looks good. He’s gotten by on his looks alone plenty of times. He suspects he’ll continue to do so as long as he can get away with it.

But Yuuri says it so matter-of-factly, with no expectations. Viktor clears his throat. “Even—like this?”

“Especially like this, you idiot,” Yuuri says fondly. “Listen, I—I know you don’t like seeing yourself like this. Seeing what you might look like in the future, when you get older. But for me?” His cheeks turn dark pink. “For me, it would be a privilege to see what you look like ten, twenty years from now." He pauses, and then bulldozes bravely on. "Even longer, if you’ll have me.” 

Viktor’s heart is a bird, fluttering madly in his chest. “That almost sounds like a marriage proposal.”

Yuuri meets his gaze, steady and determined. “Maybe it is.”

Viktor lets out a startled laugh. “Yuuri,” he breathes out, unsteady. “You—You are such a surprise.”

“A good surprise?” Yuuri asks, looking uncertain.

Viktor leans in and slips Yuuri’s glasses off his nose. “Oh, Yuuri,” he murmurs, stealing the gasp away from Yuuri’s lips. “You are, by far, the best surprise.”

 

*

 ****  

Viktor returns to his castle and locks himself up in his bathroom. He snaps his fingers and rids the mirror of water stains and toothpaste residue. He leans over the sink and squints at his reflection. Wonders what Yuuri sees. 

Oh, he still looks handsome. That was never in any question. The same angular jawline, the same sharp nose. The faintest beginnings of fine lines around his mouth. He looks a little more—dignified, perhaps, but he’s still _Viktor_. The same impeccable posture, the same aura of confidence. Just, as Yuri had bluntly told him, with less hair.

He prods at his forehead with a sigh, a blush rising to his face at the memory of Yuuri kissing him there. If he concentrates hard enough, he thinks he can almost feel the weight of Yuuri’s lips against his brow, Yuuri pulling away, Yuuri smiling at him.

He decides, then: Yuuri _is_ his true love, and no spell will tell him otherwise. Yuuri loves him. He loves Yuuri. Yuuri wants to _marry_ him. He giggles at the thought. They’re going to get married, and they’re going to grow old together, and they’re going to live happily ever after, just like he’d always known.

After all, if a receding hairline’s good enough for Yuuri, it sure as hell is good enough for Viktor.

Viktor throws a pair of finger guns at his reflection. “You go, you handsome devil, you,” he says, and even throws in a wink for good measure. 

 

*

  

Viktor wakes up the next morning and knows that he's back to twenty-eight.

His reflection tells him his hair didn't receive the memo. He allows himself to sigh deeply for a moment, but only a moment! Then he flashes himself a thumbs-up before venturing into the kitchen.

Yuri stares at him, unimpressed. “Oh,” he says after taking a sip of hot coffee. “That's how it is.”

“That  _is_ how it is,” Viktor declares, bounding into the kitchen and wrapping Yuri in a tight hug. Yuri attempts to stab him with a butter knife, but Viktor has grown accustomed to his apprentice’s unique ways of showing affection, and simply pats him on the head. He swipes a piece of toast from Yuri’s plate, earning himself a sharp jab to the ribs. “Ah, quick reflexes as usual!” 

Yuri begins buttering another slice of toast with a great deal of anger. 

“Ah, well.” Viktor summons a cup of coffee for himself and downs it in two gulps. “Thank you for breakfast, but now I must be off to plan the wedding! It’s going to be fantastic! Tell everyone, Yura, invite everyone we know! I’ll see you tonight!”

As he wanders through the shops downtown in search of proper wedding and post-wedding attire, a thought occurs as he catches a glimpse of his reflection, thinning hair and all: that it had never been about true love in the first place, but rather—

 

*

 

“It was never about true love’s kiss, was it,” Yuuri says dryly.

“Ha,” Yuri spits out between mouthfuls of katsudon. This late at night, there are only a few patrons in the main sitting area of Yuu-topia. “It was only supposed to break when the intended recipient got over his greatest fear.”

“His greatest fear is slowly going bald?” Yuuri asks, just a tad judgmental.

“No, moron.” Yuri rolls his eyes. “His greatest fear is losing _you_ because he's slowly going bald.”

Yuuri opens his mouth. Then closes it. Then opens it again. "I don't understand that man," he admits.

"Join the fucking club," Yuri mutters under his breath. He glares at Yuuri suddenly, and begins brandishing a very shiny metal fork at him. “Listen, asshole,  _I_ was the one that had to clean up after your damn mess. When you told him, ‘after you fix your castle, let’s end this.’ Do you know how hard it is to get green slime out of carpet? _Do you_?”

Yuuri carefully edges away from the fork as Yuri's eyes take on a dangerously dark glint. “No,” he says slowly, “I do not.”

Yuri points his fork at him. “If you screw things up again, I'll dump weed-killer in the hot springs."

Yuuri looks mildly impressed at his creativity, humming thoughtfully as he stands up. “You know, Yurio, you’re a really good kid.”

Yuri scowls. The effect is somewhat negated by the fact that he’s wearing footie pajamas and has a forkful of egg halfway to his mouth. “Don’t you fucking tell anyone about it,” he snarls.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” says Yuuri.

  

*

  

“What do you think?” Viktor twirls around, showing off his new coat. It’s blue-and-silver with trailing sleeves, and it brings out his eyes. He thinks he’ll wear it to their wedding reception.

Yuuri smiles at him, soft and private. Viktor likes to think it’s a special smile Yuuri saves up just for him. He’s getting better at drawing those smiles out of him, but each time is still like the first time. “What?” Viktor asks, hushed.

Yuuri reaches up and brushes his fingers through Viktor’s hair.

“Your hair is like starlight,” he says.

 

  

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> @superman: i am sorry my friend i know this was a mess  
> @kevystel: thank you for holding my hand while i was having self-esteem issues about this
> 
> see if you can spot all the references!
> 
> [come say hi on tumblr](https://fireblazie.tumblr.com) if you dare!!


End file.
